


I'll Wait For You

by poisontaster



Series: Light 'Verse [13]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Feels, Jealousy, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-10-28
Updated: 2007-10-28
Packaged: 2018-05-06 21:08:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5430839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poisontaster/pseuds/poisontaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam's no-good, horrible, bad day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Wait For You

**Author's Note:**

> Like the previous story, this is set late in the timeline, after Dean & Lena have divorced, after Sam has moved in with Dean and after Lena has gotten pregnant for the third time. Sam hints a little about the circumstances of this baby's conception, but I never wrote the story that got into it in more detail. Maybe someday.

Sam left his phone at the bakery. He doesn't remember until he's on the train, a stop from home and, since he has no _goddamn cell phone_ he can't call Dean about it. So he hops off the train at the regular station, scrapes up the change to call Dean. Thank god there are still pay phones at the train stations. He gets Dean's voice mail so, sighing, he leaves a message that he has to go back to the bakery and that he's going to be late. Then he runs downstairs, piles into his junker car—praying the whole way that it'll even get him into the city and back without breaking down—and traverses the mercifully thin traffic back into the city to get his phone. 'Cause god knows the world will come to an end if Sam doesn't have his cell phone, right?

Don't laugh; it's truer than you'd think.

Anyway, because of all of that, it's more than three hours before he hears the news. He scoops up the phone—already running out the door before Lydia can get him into another chatfest like the one that led to him forgetting the phone in the first place—and sees that he's got close to twenty voice mails of his own blinking at him.

Sam doesn't know whether to be pissed or worried as he jumps _back_ in the car and dials his through to his voicemail by touch.

_Jesus fucking Christ, Sam, where are you? Lena's having the baby. She's over at Mercy; I'm here waiting…where the fuck are you? Oh, and Marta's got the kids, so haul your ass over here, okay? Lena's having the fucking baby!_

Dean sounds distracted, jittery, excited… Sam just feels like he's going to throw up.

Just thinking about Lena at all does that to him and, for all that Sam knows that Dean's really excited about another kid because that's how Dean's wired, Sam can't forget how the baby was conceived in the first place.

Sam drops the phone on the seat and switches hands to roll down the window fast. He spits into the wind, practiced and familiar, so that none of it will blow back in. It tastes sour and metallic and he belches right after, thick and fruity. He wonders if he should pull over and looks up just in time to realize he's missed the offramp for the freeway exchange he needs to get back home. Or really, to the hospital, so Dean's whore of an ex-wife can give birth to the child she _tricked_ out of him.

Sam grinds his teeth and does a turnaround at the next exit, the car shimmying and protesting a little until he realizes he's riding the gas too hard and makes himself stop.

Ironically, the rest of the ride's uneventful, aside from the annoying chirp of Sam's phone, reminding him he has another nineteen messages, all probably variations on the first one: _Where are you? Why aren't you here? The baby's coming!_

Sam bumps the car over the concrete pulling into the hospital drive and gets lost a bit trying to figure out which of the twelve garages is the one he needs to be parking in. When he gets inside, the closest elevator is broken and the one next to it is being mopped out by a headphone wearing janitor serenading himself loudly in Spanish. The ladies at the information desk try to direct him to the next nearest bank of elevators, but rather than get lost again, Sam just takes the stairs, burning off his frustration (and hate, let's not forget the hate) in leaping bounds of two or three stairs at a time.

He spots Dean as soon as he opens the door onto the Neonatal floor (fifth floor and _Jesus_ ). More importantly, Dean spots him, shoving Sam back into the stairwell a second later and grinning so wide the top of his head should fall off.

"It's a boy," he says a second before he ravishes Sam's mouth with hard lips and urgent tongue. His hands are everywhere and Sam can only squeak once in surprise and half-hearted, faked cheer before he's melting into it—and Dean—almost making up for the shitty evening so far.

"I wanna suck you right here," Dean pants hoarsely when he pulls away and Sam hastily revises his estimate of the evening up another several notches as his brother goes t his knees.

Still, he feels he's got to make a token protest, as the common sensical one, of, "But…Dean…someone might… _oh sweet Christ, like that…_ " Which…might be less than effective, but he hopes it gets the point across.

Despite the pornographic pleasure of Dean's mouth, Sam is terrified that someone will walk up on them. There are reasons they have to hide, have to lie…and two of them are in this hospital right at this very moment: Dean's vindictive, _evil_ ex-wife (and Sam will never stop getting pleasure from putting the 'ex' on the front of that) and Dean's newly born, innocent son.

 _It's a boy,_ Sam thinks, wondering, incredulous and then everything pinches in on him and it's too much and Sam chokes in warning, coming in wringing spurts in his brother's mouth.

Dean jumps up like he's on springs and plasters his mouth over Sam's again. The taste of his own come is far from Sam's favorite, but orgasm and the fact that it's Dean's mouth trading that taste with him—and that Dean is considerately pulling Sam's clothes back together since Sam lacks the coordination to do it himself—go a long way toward forgiveness.

"The baby's good," Dean says a moment later, the same quavering excitement in his voice as on the phone. "Healthy, full-weight. And I think I've talked Lena out of breastfeeding…" Sam shudders at the thought of what poison any child would unknowingly absorb from Lena's breasts, "which means we could have the kid out of here and Lena out of our life as soon as tomorrow!"

Sam doesn't know what to say. And that uncertainty must show in his face, because Dean falters, his glee cracking at the edges. "Sam?"

Quickly Sam pulls himself together and slaps a smile on the top of it. He shakes his head. "Nothin', man. That's great. That's wonderful!"

It's a lie. It feels like a lie. All of this feels like such a huge fucking lie and Sam doesn't know what to do about that.

The least he can do, though, is pretend to be excited with Dean. For just a little while.


End file.
